


Crowning Glory

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Character Study, Children, F/M, Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-27
Updated: 2007-02-27
Packaged: 2019-05-15 11:33:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14789717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: Donna reflects on her life





	Crowning Glory

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**Crowning Glory**

Josh/Donna, mentions of others

Rating Teen – well, they are married with children

Donna kept pulling at the skirts of my muse; she wanted her story told. This is stand-alone, but it does build on my "Holding Hands on the Way Down" universe.

Spoilers through end of series; also may contain spoilers for “Holding Hands on the Way Down” and “Fold in Gently”

Not mine, never were, never will be, but they consume my soul

Feedback and criticism always welcomed

\-----------------------------------------------------  
 _Lyman Residence, Georgetown, Washington DC; March 2011_

“My funny valentine,

Sweet, comic valentine”

Donnatella Moss Lyman crooned to the baby in her arms. The child looked up at her with his clear blue eyes. This child was proof that Josh had a recessive blue-eyed gene somewhere in the tangled web of his DNA, she thought.

How did they know when they named the triplets four months ago? Of course, with just the one girl, Joanie was a given, but what angel stood over them as the children were born, so that the two boys were named to fit their personalities? (And, yes, even at this young age, a mother could tell the difference.)

“How did we know, Mikeydee?”

Little Micah Daniel Lyman, named for his mother’s maternal grandfather, so laconic and quiet spoken you would have thought he was a new Englander instead of a product of the mid-West, and the deceptively laid-back reporter who had patiently waited to capture CJ’s heart, looked up at her and actually shrugged his shoulders, as if to say, “Let’s let someone else worry about that. Right now, I have you all to myself, Mommy, and I’m going to take advantage of that. Sooner or later, the others will want you and you’ll have to put me down. That’s okay, I’m a patient guy, and I’ll just wait and look and observe until Daddy or Grandma or someone else notices me. I’m easy.”

Moments like this one, when only one child demanded attention, were all too rare with 17-week old triplets and an 18-month toddler, and were to be cherished. She was grateful that Josh’s mom was with them for the first year, she valued the assistance of Lord Marbury’s something-removed cousin, and the girls who came in after school were a God-send, but these were her babies and she wanted to be the one to care for them. All too soon, this year would be over and she would be back at work.

She looked over at Noah, who was playing with his BusyGears in his playpen. The boy was aware of the babies, but still considered himself to be the center of the Lyman universe.

Noah loved going to the “House” with Daddy on Saturday mornings, where he could sit on the floor and color or pound on the computer. Sometimes, the pretty blonde lady that Mommy used to work for would come down and read him a story or give him some ice cream. Daddy kept telling Noah that he was the big brother and would have responsibilities, whatever they were, but he would also have privileges, whatever they were. Right now, all Noah wanted was a cookie.

“Ooky. Noah ooky.”

At the same time that her oldest son asked for a cookie, the heretofore-sleeping babies awoke and demanded her attention with their cries. She hoped she could manage. The au pair was at the dentist, her mother-in-law was lying down with a migraine, and it was nowhere near time for the high schooler to arrive.

She reached for the zwieback and gave it to Noah, who was easily diverted with the treat.

Micah gave her his “It’s okay” smile as she laid him in his crib and turned on the mobile. He hardly ever cried, except for when he was hungry or needed changing. Even then, it as if he was apologizing. “As soon as I get that talking thing down pat, Mommy, I’ll stop this crying thing.”

She changed the other two triplets and brought both of them to the rocker.

Little Leo’s personality evinced all the pent up energy of his namesake. Even at such a young age, you could sense his little mind going at warp factor 10, absorbing everything around him. Whatever he did, from drinking to pooping, he did as fast as possible, as if he already had a Blackberry overbooked with meetings and appointments. “I’ve got growing to do, Mommy, and that’s my job. That means I have to eat, and eating means I have to pee and poop. Your job is to make sure that I’m fed and I’m changed, whether by you or by Daddy or Grandma or someone else. So let’s all do our jobs and everything will be fine.” Donna wasn’t sure she saw much of Sam in the child, but Josh swore that when he had the triplets, Leo Samuel was the one that was willing to wait his turn, to make sure that his sister and brother got their fair share of their father’s attention. For some reason, Donna never saw that side of Leo.

Joanie was a bit of an enigma to her, but then, tragically, she never had the chance to meet the big sister that Josh and his mother mourned. There were times when Donna thought she felt traces of her Nona Elisabetta, the one who taught her the Italian legends (and curses), the dark-eyed beauty who stole her grandfather's heart in World War II Tuscany. Joanie was also the most troubled of the triplets, the one who got colic, the one most susceptible to diaper rash. She was also, at this early an age, her Daddy’s girl. Joanie would fuss and whimper for hours during the day, but when Josh came home, no matter how early or late, and took his daughter in his arms, she turned into the calmest, quietest little baby on the face of the earth. Then she would look at Donna and Donna swore the little girl smirked, as if to say "I'll always be able to have my way with him! He's so easy!"

“Umph!”

Joanie had managed to get hold of her braid; it must have fallen over her shoulder when she bent down to pick up the children.

During the day, she tended to keep her hair in a two-level braid. She would take the hair from the top of her head down to her ears and braid that piece. She would divide the remainder in two and braid the top braid in with those sections. For some reason, it didn’t hurt nearly as much if one of the children pulled on the braid as it did if he or she pulled on individual hairs.

So many people told her that she should, or would, cut her hair with the triplets. Her mother and her mother-in-law said that long hair was a nuisance with the little ones.

Of course, her mother had been after her to cut her hair ever since she reached legal drinking age. (“No one will take you seriously in the workplace, dear, with that ‘teenager hair’ hanging down your back.”)

Well, mom, she thought, I haven’t exactly stagnated with my “teenager hair”. Of course, it probably helps that my boss has long hair, even though it’s almost always in a chignon.

Four years ago, when she gave Josh his four week ultimatum, she never expected that she would be mothering four children, would all ready have the full-fledged family that surrounded her. Nor did she expect that she would be poised on the edge of a rewarding career in politics and government.

She thought back to her wedding night. After the ceremony and reception at the White House, they had been helicoptered up to Camp David before leaving the next day for a Caribbean cruise. She and Josh were sitting on the porch listening to the last of the summer crickets. Josh was playing with the ringlets of her hair, beginning to unwind the tress that covered the elastic holding the rest of her hair at the back of her crown. She mentioned something about how happy Ginger looked with her newly announced pregnancy and how calm and accepting CJ and Danny were with their recent loss.

“Well, if we want to jump on the baby bandwagon, I’d better get to work,” her new husband said, reaching for the zipper at the back of her dress.

One night on their honeymoon cruise, they were dancing outside the main ballroom, barefooted. She was wearing a strapless sundress with an elasticized top. Earlier in the day, she had the ship’s stylist braid the crown and sides of her hair in cornrows, leaving the rest hanging from behind her ears. He was singing along with the old standard that the orchestra was playing. “Moonlight becomes you; it goes with your hair. As he swung her around in a circle, the loose ends flew out behind her and caught the glint of silver from above.

“Do you think you’re pregnant yet?” Josh wanted a baby right away “before I lose my nerve.”

Well, it was too late for him to lose his nerve now. And she didn’t think he would. If anything, he was more confident than ever.

“You want to stay home with the kids for a second year, maybe get your Master’s, that’s fine by me. Just pack my lunches, cut my hair, cut your own, and find a few other ways to economize.” He turned her head to face him. “Seriously, Donna, if you want to stay with the kids until they’re all ready for preschool, that’s okay.”

At one of the Inaugural balls at the beginning of the year, her first big event since the birth of the triplets, she overheard Margaret and Rina talking about what a good job Liz Bartlett Westin was doing as Mrs. Santos’ Chief of Staff. Would she have a job next year, when she was ready to come back to work? For that matter, would she be ready to come back to work in a year or would she still want to be with her children?

“With your hair like that, you remind me of Grace Kelly.”

Nancy McNally and the President walked up to her.

She touched the infinity-shaped coil at the base of her neck. 

“Thank you, Madame Secretary. And congratulations," she said to the woman who was just confirmed as Arnie Vinick's successor. God be good to the man. He was sorely missed in the White House. And Ginger's mother-in-law, to lose a second husband. How did she bear it?

Matt Santos took in her strapless bottle green satin sheath. “And it’s hard to believe that you gave birth just a little over nine weeks ago.”

Again, she expressed her thanks for the compliment.

“Donna, have you thought about next year? About what you would like to do?”

“Well, sir, I would serve at the pleasure of Mrs. Santos.”

“How about serving at the pleasure of me?”

“Sir?”

“Donna, your skills have grown beyond the needs of my wife. I need to think about it, where best to make use of your talents, but when you are ready to return to work, I’d like you to be working for me. Nancy here could use your skills” (the woman nodded in assent) “but theoretically that would put you under Josh. The Democratic Governors’ Association might be a good fit for you. I know that Liz Westin is doing an excellent job for Helen, so you wouldn’t be leaving my wife in the lurch.”

“Mr. President, I don’t know what to say.”

“Well, that’s part of the beauty of it. You don’t have to say anything for almost a year. In the meantime, may I have this dance?”

And with the words of Matt Santos running through her mind, she felt like the serene princess she was told she resembled.

Was it only 13 months ago that she and Josh conceived the triplets and so dramatically changed their lives? Josh swears it happened on St. Valentine’s afternoon, when they were at the house in Widewater Beach. “I saw you there, asleep, your sun-lightened hair, your crowning glory spread out over your darker golden tan, and I knew I loved you beyond all understanding. I knew that you were my life.”

She had a husband, children, and a good career. And the only change she had made with her hair was that one dreadful experiment with bangs right after Russell lost the nomination.

She remembered that vision she had the weekend that CJ and Danny were married. She was standing on the steps of the Capitol, her left hand on the bible Josh was holding, her right hand raised to the heavens. Her hair, more silver than gold, hung from her brow down past her shoulders.

No, mother, I’ll leave the shorter hair, the change in styles and color to CJ, to Margaret, to Bonnie, to Ginger. This long hair has taken me from Wisconsin to Washington, and will eventually take me to the White House.

She heard the doorbell.

“I’ll get it, dear.” Her mother-in-law started down the steps.

The infants started to stir and Noah stretched.

Her time of solitude ended.

“Hi, Melanie. How’s school? Why don’t you take Leo and Micah until Alexandra returns from the dentist, and Mom, why don’t you take Joanie?”

Flipping her braid behind her, she reached down for Noah.

“How’s my big boy?”


End file.
